


Sixteen Beers?!

by Little Giant (Destini)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, Minor: Udai Tenma, Multi, Polyamory, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destini/pseuds/Little%20Giant
Summary: Bokuto said Udai Tenma is pretty. His three boyfriends use it as an excuse to ruin him.Unfair! Keiji won’t even grind down against him, Kōtarō can only feel Tetsurō’s thrusts and his sweaty palm and Kei’s hot gasps into his neck.Is this it? Will he come untouched? It soundsawful, but! He’s certainly open to settling!
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 2
Kudos: 121





	Sixteen Beers?!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing for the R18+ BkAkKrTk Fic zine that'll come out February 2021, [check it out](https://twitter.com/bluemoonficzine)!

_If Kōtarō could go back in time and change what happened, he probably wouldn’t. He’d bear with the consequences, the pain, the embarrassment, just to have a glimpse of the things that followed._

Udai Tenma is a pretty man. He has curls as dark as deep ocean waters and eyes as dangerously alluring. When Keiji told him he went to Karasuno, that he’d been the original Little Giant even, it didn’t surprise Kōtarō. There was something about Udai that was creepily beautiful. It made sense for him to rise against the world. And despite that aura of defiance, something powerful crawling right under the surface of tight jeans and an old hoodie, Udai was very, very, _very_ nice.

He smiles at everything! He laughs at everything! He puts his all into everything! And that made them kindred spirits.

“Kōtarō?” Keiji asks, poking his shoulder.

He jolts at the contact, realizing he hasn’t spoken for a few minutes as they wait outside the barbecue. The smell of grilled meat and the cheerful chatter of drunk patrons is usually all he thinks about, so he supposes it _is_ strange to be silent as they wait for Udai to show up.

Keiji has some documents to exchange with the manga artist, and the manga artist has a manuscript to submit for editing, but otherwise this is a friendly outing between two pleasantly acquainted colleagues. Thank goodness, since Kōtarō never knows what to do when they talk business. It’s entertaining sometimes to be privy to their heated and nonsensical exchanges about the merits of zombie culture and the human condition, but it’s mostly depressing. He’s not sure he’d survive in whatever Udai’s writing, he’s too trusting.

“You’ve been quiet,” Keiji explains, “What are you thinking about? Udai-san?”

“Hmm… yeah! He’s late often, huh?”

Keiji exhales. “Yes. He is. But that’s not all you were thinking about, was it?”

Always so spot on. He likes it, though. “No… I dunno. I like him a lot. He’s pretty. You two work well together!”

Kōtarō being so honest all the time doesn’t make things easier to parse when his thoughts are so scattered, regardless. But the fact is that Kōtarō thinks Udai is pretty. _Beautiful_ , maybe, because this has to be the fourth time he’s mentioned it. Keiji grimaces.

“You have the hots for Udai-san?” he asks, trying to say it calmly but hearing it come out confused.

“H-huh? No, of course not!” Kōtarō laughs. “I just think he’s very pretty! Don’t you think so, too? You said you loved that thing he does with his nose before! He’s cute, right?”

“Uhh…”

It’s not him who says it. Keiji freezes up and wearily turns his head to see Udai standing there, cheeks pink as he hesitantly continues to approach.

“Tenma-san!” Kōtarō cheers, arms opening for a hug. Udai stops, arms not opening to meet him, and Keiji throws an arm forward to stop his over-excited boyfriend.

“What?” Kōtarō balks.

“I think we should go inside,” Keiji stiffly interjects. “Apologies, Udai-san,” he adds.

Udai doesn’t look them in the eyes, but nods. Great.

When they’re sitting down after ordering, Kōtarō’s the only one who’s yapping as if he’s not the one who made things awkward. Something about “is it so bad to be too trusting?” and Keiji can’t concentrate enough to figure out why.

His eyes shift between Udai and Kōtarō for a moment until he clears his throat. “Udai-san… you have your manuscript for me?”

“Oh! Yes,” he says, some relief showing on his (darn, cutely) crinkled nose as he opens his bag and takes out the envelope. He hands it over, but it finds Kōtarō’s fingers first.

“Mind if I look?”

The blush is back on Udai’s cheeks as he looks away and Keiji, for a brief miniscule _tiny_ moment, wants to scream.

“S-sorry, I only have one copy, needs to be scanned.”

“Aww, okay.”

Kōtarō gives the envelope a sad pat and offers it to Keiji with bright eyes, lit up with the low lights of the barbecue. For a moment far longer than the last, he wants to kiss him.

“Did you mean what you said about my nose?” Udai blurts out, a nervous finger twirling in his hair.

Kōtarō stammers. “Huh? You heard that?”

“The pretty part too.”

“The pretty part too… Well, yes! Keiji thinks so, right?”

Keiji takes off his glasses at a speed that borders on jaded to rub at his temple, and he wonders if it’d be rude to leave. “Bokuto-san, please, don’t-”

“Uh, I’m sorry, I’m not interested!”

Everyone stills.

“What do you mean?” Kōtarō asks, wide-eyed and curious. “You don’t want to know?”

Keiji wishes that’s all, but Udai shakes his head and confirms the misunderstanding. “I-I mean, I know your relationship is a tad complicated but I’m… uh, I don’t think I could join an established polyamorous group like that.”

Lord.

“Bokuto-san!” Keiji says louder than intended. He knows his face is on fire now as he looks at his stunned boyfriend. “When did you talk about that with him? I’m his _editor_ , I’m trying to be professional _._ ”

“I wasn’t asking!” Kōtarō returns, panicked. “And I don’t, uh, remember?”

“ _Kōtarō_.”

“I should go!” Udai announces, slinging his bag around his shoulder and bumping the table in his hurry to stand.

“Wait—Udai-san, I need to explain—”

“No need!” he waves, still backing up, a wayward finger from his other hand stuck in his black curls now. “No need! It’s okay!”

His flushed ears disappear in an instant when Udai pivots and scurries out the door.

“Oh my God,” Keiji groans, massaging his temples. He lowers until his forehead is pressed against the table.

Kōtarō droops, the wind knocked out of him. “I-I didn’t mean to upset him. Is he mad at me?”

“Kōtarō, he was _embarrassed_.” Possibly more embarrassed than he is now.

“What? Why?”

“He thought you were coming onto him!”

“Huh?”

Keiji turns his torso so he can take Kōtarō’s larger hands in his, squeezing the warmth tightly. “And now he thinks we were _both_ coming onto him.”

“Oh… I didn’t mean to,” he frowns.

Kōtarō being so honest all the time doesn’t make things easier when the damage is done regardless of his intentions. But the fact is that Kōtarō thinks Udai is pretty. Very pretty, because he never thought to stop saying it around him. Keiji grimaces.

  
  


“So you’re telling me… Kōtarō was eyeing your hot editor, and that’s why you three don’t go to dinner anymore?” wheezes Tetsurō. He’s not asking, he’s stating, and it’d be infuriating if anyone among them wasn’t already four beers into the night.

Tetsurō’s lost his shirt, lounging on the floor—which is not carpeted, cold and _wooden_ —and grinning up at a standing Kei, who does have a shirt on, but keeps frowning and checking that it is with the palm of his hand. He’s too tired from a long shift at the museum, so he doesn’t pay mind to the conversation or say anything snarky although Keiji and Kōtarō are expecting (hoping) that he does.

The situation’s embarrassing enough as it is without the commentary. It’s the chaos of four boyfriends and sixteen beers on a Saturday night, crammed into Kōtarō’s fancy, V. League Division 1-paid apartment.

Keiji heaves a deep sigh, curling deeper into Kōtarō on the couch despite how hot he feels from several sources.

“Udai-san is just a really busy guy,” Kōtarō attempts to defend himself, pink-faced and pouting. He throws an arm around Keiji, missing at first, before tucking him even closer into his muscular side.

“But you _do_ find him hot,” Tetsurō hums, eyes carving shapes into him like a predator. He sits up straighter, bumping into Kei’s long legs. Kei wobbles a bit, brought back to Earth, blinking around through his glasses and trying to piece together what’s going on. He fails.

“I wouldn’t—I mean, Udai-san is, hm,” Kōtarō babbles. Yes. Udai Tenma is conventionally attractive. He could be a model, really. But he’s seeing the look Keiji is giving him—doubt, maybe some jealousy—and he’s seeing the look Tetsurō is giving him—evil amusement—and he doesn’t feel like admitting that.

“He is not as sexy as you three,” he says instead, confident in his answer.

“Liar,” his three boyfriends return at once in varying levels of enthusiasm and sobriety.

Kōtarō gives up to sulk. With a laugh, Tetsurō crawls forward until he’s knelt between Kōtarō’s thick thighs that are more like tree trunks, smoothing careful, long fingers up his skin and stopping at the line of his shorts. “I think you need a punishment.”

“Punishment?” he gapes, incredulous.

Keiji shifts away from him, a thoughtful finger pushing up his glasses as he glances between the two of them. “I’m going to have to agree.”

“ _Punishment_?” Kōtarō bellows again. “What do you mean?”

Kei’s the last to approach the couch, sitting (slouching) further away as he sips on his beer and peers over at the three of them. “I agree,” he finally says, sneering.

It’s the last straw. Kōtarō groans. “This is unfair. You three aren’t explaining anything again!”

Keiji and Tetsurō exchange a glance, Keiji’s unbothered expression to Tetsurō’s catty grin, before they’re working together to tug off Kōtarō’s shirt. He doesn’t resist, intrigue and confusion etched on his features, the sudden chill on his chest making him shiver.

Keiji slowly labors a leg over his until he’s straddling him, knees pressed into the couch. He rolls his arms over Kōtarō’s shoulders and smiles before peppering small kisses to his face.

“Not sure how this is a punishment,” he mumbles, sinking into the feeling. He distantly feels Tetsurō doing something behind Keiji, but he’s too drunk and distracted to care. One of his handsome boyfriends is kissing him and kissing him _well_. Keiji’s lips, no matter what he’s been eating or drinking, always taste like caramel and lattes. He’s a walking coffee shop daydream, a delicate disposition and reliable and so, so warm.

He parts his lips for Keiji’s tongue and glides his hands up and under his shirt, touching and tracing the silky skin he loves so much. He’s lost his hard abs, but there are lingering and oversensitive contours. Keiji pushes into his chest and shoves his tongue deeper, eliciting a moan from Kōtarō. Abruptly, he pulls out with a lingering bite to his lip.

“ _Keijiii_ ,” he moans, tightening around his waist. He grinds up against him once, batting his eyelashes and panting up to his neck. “Come on, don’t stop…”

But Keiji pays him no mind, throwing his head back and grinding down. Kōtarō exhales out of his nose at the friction, his hard-on trapped in his shorts. It’d be so easy. So easy to just take it out and ask for one, teeny little favor from Keiji’s sexy teeny little mouth.

He bends over top of him and Kōtarō shivers. Is this it? But then he hears the small cackle of Tetsurō and his heart flips. Kōtarō’s eyes shoot up to see the handsome mop of raven hair behind the bent-over Keiji. Keiji’s shorts and underwear slip off to the floor, revealing a half-hard and beautifully long cock, but Kōtarō’s own clothing goes ignored. An icy shiver rips down his spine as Keiji’s mouth meets his chest, flicking his tongue up his abs in kitten-like licks until he’s sucking on his nipple.

He only remembers the dilemma of his clothes being on when Tetsurō’s hand lays flat on Keiji’s hair, tugging him gently and distracting his ministrations. He pets him, exchanging a cocky glance with Kōtarō, before he’s bending lower, lower until he’s out of sight.

Keiji bites his lip and arches, burying his face in Kōtarō’s chest, fiery breath gasping against him.

No, no way.

So, this was punishment.

“ _Tetsu_ ,” Keiji groans into him, pressing a couple sloppy kisses to his abs. “Mm there, yes. Thank you.”

Always so polite. Despite how quietly cruel he is, despite how he arches himself like a—like a—ah, he can’t even imagine calling him something so dirty! Kōtarō slides his hands around the back of Keiji’s shirt until he hisses, feeling the supple ass waiting for him. He squeezes it between two large hands until he feels just what exactly Tetsurō is doing behind him.

His tongue brushes Kōtarō’s knuckle, kisses it, then continues lapping at Keiji’s ass. Every jump and jolt from the rimming shoots straight to Kōtarō’s dick, hard and trapped under Keiji’s chest.

“Kou… spread my cheeks for me?” Keiji asks, kissing the question into him sweetly.

“Okay…” he says, hoarsely.

He peeks over at Kei, who he expects to look bored with the affair, but his pants are around his ankles as he palms his clothed erection. Shit. Blonde strands are gorgeously unkempt, lips in a pout, teeth biting into them, pretty eyes hazy with alcohol. He looks so _good_ and Kōtarō’s dick jumps when Kei makes eye contact, sending him a small, knowing smirk right underneath those eyes like old gold.

Punishment. Punishment.

Kōtarō squeezes Keiji’s ass and spreads his cheeks. The change is immediate. Keiji grunts and moans, grinding back against a tongue neither of them can see.

“Tetsurō, Tetsurō,” he sighs. Kōtarō tries to seek some semblance of friction, but Keiji doesn’t give him anything back, flashing him a small smile. “Not yet…”

Not yet always sounds like never to Kōtarō. He groans and puffs his cheeks, hands shaking as he feels the slight movements of Tetsurō pressing his fat tongue into Keiji.

And then Tetsurō pulls away, standing to his full height, drool down his chin as he strips himself of his own shorts and underwear. He strokes his cock with a happy hum, eyes focused on Keiji. He pets his ass, smiling harder when Keiji keens into the touch.

“Mm, ready for me, baby?” he purrs.

Keiji only nods in response, pressing a few more wet kisses into Kōtarō’s chest.

He slaps a cheek once and Keiji groans. “Yes, yes, ready.”

“Good.”

Kei reaches in the couch cushions to fish for lube, tossing it high to Tetsurō, who catches it with only a brief glance, pouring it over himself and Keiji. He tosses it back before positioning himself, flicking his eyes to Kōtarō’s blown-out gaze, before _sloowwwlly_ pushing into their sexy, pliant boyfriend who opens his mouth in a silent moan and closes his eyes.

“Keiji,” Tetsurō groans, hands smoothing and palming his ass that Kōtarō continues to hold open. He can feel his cock brush against his fingers and shivers, wishing it was him. Him inside any three of them, but he’s being punished for being honest. They have eyes, too!

Frustrating.

But he doesn’t mind, not really.

Tetsurō rolls his hips forward, and it moves Keiji, shoving his face into Kōtarō’s chest. Just how he wants it, since Keiji drools against his abs instead of repositioning himself. Tetsurō deliberately builds up speed, hands moving from his ass, to his back, back to his ass, over to his ass; he doesn’t know what to do with himself as he throws his head back for a moment and moans.

His stomach and arm muscles flex with each thrust. He’s also not as fit as he was in high school, but he’s older and fuller and surely all the recreational volleyball and sex has done _something_ for him to look like this. Kōtarō moves one hand to brush his hand and Tetsurō clasps it, fingers threading with his.

Tetsurō’s eyes soften just slightly, a buoyant smile on his face as he stares into Kōtarō’s. His breaths stick in his throat to see the loving expression and his hips stiffen, pulled mercilessly into their game.

“Hey, Kou-chan, I think Keiji could use a kiss.”

Keiji looks up with the suggestion, pretty blue eyes batting and lips already parting for him. With a small groan, he obliges, sucking on Kōtarō’s tongue and closing his eyes as Tetsurō continues to fuck into him.

“Harder, Tetsurō, please,” Keiji asks, breaking the kiss for only a moment.

He’s moved more forcefully and their kisses become sloppier and more desperate. Keiji gasps, chanting and mumbling something about coming, but Kōtarō can’t make it out. The thrusts halt and Keiji whines at the loss.

They both look back to see Kei at Tetsurō’s side, kissing across his neck while he continues to jerk himself off.

“Don’t stop, please,” Keiji insists, pushing back into Tetsurō. It makes Kei sigh before he’s crawling on the couch.

“Then distract me,” he says pointedly.

Keiji tilts his head to the side and opens his mouth, making Kei grin when he sits high on his knees, pushing them against Kōtarō’s thighs. It’s just enough room for his cock to slowly slip into the awaiting heat, swallowing him until Keiji’s nose pushes against blonde pubes.

Kei grunts, readjusting his glasses with one hand while the other loops around Kōtarō’s neck for support. His pink face is having a hard time staying neutral, crumbling with a bite to his lip. Keiji swallows before pulling away with a gasp and Kōtarō whimpers. He does it over and over before Kei gives up on steeling his expression, burying his face into Kōtarō’s neck and keeping his hips still for Keiji to do what he wants.

“ _Pleaseeeee_ ,” Kōtarō begs to someone, _anyone_. His cock is painful in his shorts, Keiji can probably feel it against him, a small wet spot that’s leaking through the fabric by now.

All three of his boyfriends ignore him because all three of them are cruel and mean and _hot_! Kōtarō is so horny he feels sick. He’ll top. He’ll bottom. He’ll settle for anything if it involves his dick in any manner. Kei bites down on his neck, groaning softly near his ear. He moves his hips to Keiji’s mouth and Keiji, beautiful, perfect oral god he is, takes it all with no hint of gagging. Unfair! Keiji won’t even grind down against him, Kōtarō can only feel Tetsurō’s thrusts and his sweaty palm and Kei’s hot gasps into his neck.

Is this it? Will he come untouched? It sounds _awful_ , but! He’s certainly open to settling!

“Tetsurō,” Keiji moans, a high-pitched whine in his voice. Right in front of him! Unfiltered! Holy shit!

“I’m coming,” the other groans in response. The thrusts get erratic and Keiji smiles, dopey, taking Kei back in his mouth like it’s the only cock he cares about, Kōtarō’s very much not included.

Tetsurō’s first—he’s always so easy to spot when he’s at his limit. His head lolls around, a grin on his face but furrowed eyebrows, sweating with full-body tremors. He’s a poster boy for perfect orgasms and everyone envies him, if only because he somehow seems to enjoy sex more than them. His hand that’s not holding Kōtarō’s wraps around Keiji to keep him deep on his cock.

Kei’s second—but why wouldn’t he be when Keiji’s tiny mouth is the one on him. He bites his lip so hard that Kōtarō’s afraid he’ll bleed, but instead of red there’s spit out the corners of his mouth as he fails to hold back a long, strangled moan. The hand that’s not around his neck tangles in Keiji’s black hair and Kōtarō, in a bizarre moment of horny clarity, is fine with it being him.

Keiji’s last—swallowing everything Kei gives him before yanking his mouth off with a gasp, whimpering as his legs shake, painting the line between Kōtarō’s shorts and shirt with thick streaks. Kōtarō feels it, wet warmth on the sliver of skin showing between the fabric.

Kōtarō also wants to come off a sexual high like the three of them are, but the sight of them spent has him hard-wired.

“A-am I really being punished?” he hiccups, realization dawning on him that they really _could_ leave him untouched tonight. It’s suddenly all less playful, more hurtful, as he wonders if finding Udai Tenma attractive was a crime. Did he truly hurt their feelings? Guilt and pain are so easily crushing, whipping away the lustful haze he’s in.

Kei props two bony fingers under his chin to lift his head up and look at him eye-level. His eyes don’t belong to someone hurt—maybe someone willing to hurt instead. The blush on his cheeks betrays him either way. He’s not angry with him.

“You are,” he says, breathless. “Now take your clothes off.”

“What?”

Tetsurō removes his fingers from Kōtarō’s as he pulls out of Keiji, cum glistening on his dick as he unsteadily makes his way to the couch on the other side of him. Kōtarō’s eyes track him right outside of his vision, but he doesn’t dare move from Kei’s hold.

“You heard him, take your clothes off,” Tetsurō laughs, “We’re still going to punish you all night.”

Keiji leisurely sits up on his lap, hands rolling under his shirt and up his abs, smearing cum all the while. “Let’s have some fun, Kōtarō.”

He’s catching onto the joke now. Three against one is hardly fair, but he gives a slow-spreading smile as he meets Kei’s gaze head-on. Kei recognizes the challenging look and responds with a smirk.

Game on.

Well then. Kōtarō’s lost already, but that means nothing to his very attractive tormentors. Especially the blonde menace. Kei wrangles the spreader bar to the naked man like an expert, no hesitation when he clips in the second brace to his thigh nor when he exits the bedroom. Tetsurō’s the one who checks that it’s fastened in properly, one finger curling inside the cuffs and tugging at them. Of course it’s properly fastened because he gives an appreciative hum before jumping on the bed to lie beside him.

“Nice and comfy, Kou-chan?”

“Yes. But this isn’t how I expected tonight to go.”

“Ha, but that’s why it’s fun!”

Kōtarō doesn’t look sure about that, so Tetsurō rolls over until he’s straddling him. He hums as he checks the wrist binds, adjusting them ever so slightly so that Kōtarō’s arms aren’t being fully suspended or pulled.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Kōtarō echoes.

Tetsurō leans over, fingers flexing on his cheeks to draw him into an easy-paced kiss. Maybe he’s been a bad boyfriend, if any of tonight is enough for him to worry about anything. Kōtarō’s their ace, a center piece star in a relationship where there is no metamour. He licks into his mouth in that aggravatingly slow way that Kōtarō claims he hates, but never asks to stop.

On cue, Kōtarō moans and bucks up into Tetsurō’s weight, rolling abs against his crotch. He responds by shoving his hips back down and the clank of the restraints rings delightful in his ears. The taste of beer on his lips makes him deepen the kiss, chasing some of that headiness that Kōtarō selfishly clings to.

“Oh! Ah, that’s Kei,” Kōtarō grunts, jerking again.

Sure enough, Kei is back, another glass of beer in hand— _oh no_ —while the other is in a pink, lubed up glove and working up the length of Kōtarō’s hard-on.

“Where are your glasses, Kei?” Tetsurō snickers.

“Keiji has them.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Lube.”

Kei doesn’t elaborate but Tetsurō lets it go, eyeing the hickey on his neck that wasn’t there ten minutes ago. Huh.

“Y-you know,” Kōtarō groans, “What’s the point of the restraints if you’re gonna sit on me, hm?”

“Because you’re buff as hell, man,” Tetsurō says, slipping an interested finger inside his big mouth.

“Buf yawr heafee!” Kōtarō gasps around his finger, flailing tongue far too erotic for someone who’s not even trying.

“Hard to properly hear any consent when you’re fucking his mouth, Tetsurō,” Kei sighs.

Tetsurō rolls his eyes but slips his finger out, caressing the bumpy pink on the way and grinning only when Kōtarō’s lip frowns with the loss.

“Aww, did you like that?” he teases.

Kōtarō nods his head and Tetsurō laughs before planting a loving kiss on his nose. He looks behind him to watch Kei work, half his beer gone, hand stroking faster on the twitching erection.

“What beer number is that, babe?”

Kei slows down while meeting his gaze. Then, he peeks down to his drink with furrowed eyebrows. “Uh?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that, thanks,” Tetsurō says, snatching the glass.

“Hey… I’m okay.”

“I’d beg to differ, but you’d probably like that.”

Kei snorts at his joke before quickly pursing his lips, pretending he didn’t just find it funny.

“Whatever. Keep him still,” he mutters.

Tetsurō sighs dramatically. “You heard him, Kou.” He tightens his thighs around Kōtarō and takes a long gulp from the glass. Not as good as his lips, but it’ll do.

“What? What?” he says, more like begs.

Then he groans long and hard. Tetsurō enjoys the sound far too much. “ _Daammmmmittt!_ You’re—you’re _edging_ me?”

Tetsurō laughs at that. “Slow on the uptake, babe. Yes, we are.”

“No, no, Kei, don’t stop please, I was so close!”

“Hm.”

He leans over to kiss Kōtarō’s whines away, and if some beer slips out of his lips, his boyfriend doesn’t complain. It gets drunk down, followed by a gasp and another moan when Kei starts working him again. He bucks up and Tetsurō is even more convinced about the necessity of the restraints when the powerful muscles almost knock him off. The headboard wood makes a concerning noise but holds him. He might _actually_ be able to break out if he tries. Hot.

“Sorry I took so long,” Keiji announces.

Tetsurō turns his head to take him in, whistling at the outfit. “I can’t believe you can fit that.”

Keiji is holding a box and wearing Kei’s old leather suit that masquerades as lingerie. A black leather crop top with nipple cut-outs, strapped down to hot pants strapped to suspenders. Suddenly, he feels bad for Kōtarō and he understands why Kei came back with a hickey.

“If you needed help puttin’ it on, one of us could’ve done it,” Tetsurō grins, draining the rest of the beer after.

“Oh. No. I was sterilizing the anal beads.”

Kōtarō chokes below him.

The beads in question are the bigger ones, a black, thick line like licorice when Keiji pulls them out and smiles.

He’s drunk.

Keiji slides on the bed effortlessly, kneeling next to Kei and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Kei’s lips twitch upwards as he shifts to give Keiji more room. Kōtarō’s already thrashing. He’s never been good with anal beads, trying to edge him with them might be impossible, but they will certainly try.

“Be still,” Tetsurō chuckles, setting down the empty glass on the bed and squishing his cheeks together. “Hey, concentrate on me instead.”

Kōtarō groans but obeys, eyes already closed by the time Tetsurō leans over to kiss him again. It’s sobering to tame such a beast.

Kei, on the other hand, might be more drunk than he’s ever been. Which includes that one time in university when Tadashi convinced him it wouldn’t be a big deal to go to one ‘small’ house party. He didn’t know a group of fifteen people was considered small or that kegs would be involved. They also _probably_ passed around illegal substances but Kei doesn’t remember much from that night to prove it.

He blinks back to reality when Keiji’s arm brushes his. Half of the anal beads are already inside Kōtarō and he sharply inhales at the sight. He’s used to being the ‘big volleyball player’ in a relationship, but gaining Bokuto Kōtarō as a boyfriend has flipped the dynamics in all the right ways. He can be as dominant as he wants, but it’s no longer expected of him. He can _do_ what he wants with the three of them and it’s the most freeing, _loving_ experience—

“Kei, please edge Kōtarō. You’re spacing.”

“Ah.”

The delicate pink glove makes squelching sounds as lube mixes with precum. The fun part about edging someone like Kōtarō is the ease of it. He’s loud and his cock makes everything incredibly obvious. The fascination of it is enough to keep up the game. For Kōtarō, his cock turns colors, the veins pulse, and it twitches in a way that resembles a dry orgasm. Beautiful.

It only takes seconds for all three things to happen at once, and he abruptly lets go. Keiji also stops, only one bead left to press in. Keiji. Pretty.

Kei leans over to kiss at his neck, nursing the hickey he left on him not too long ago when he was putting on the leather outfit. Keiji squeaks—wow, sexy—from the sensitivity before relaxing and tilting his head away to give him better access.

“ _Keiiii_ ,” Kōtarō calls for him, cock still twitching.

He snickers but ignores him, using the non-gloved hand to caress and pinch at Keiji. His stomach is exposed and Kei can’t help but to prod at it. Maybe he’s a sadist to always love teasing and tickling. Keiji squeaks again and he hums, his own cock hardening in interest. Yeah. Sadist.

Keiji shakily pushes the last bead in and Kei doesn’t stop his sucking another delicious hickey as he grips Kōtarō’s aching cock again. He goes slow this time, thumbing at the tip and holding firm as Kōtarō attempts to buck against his thigh braces and the spreader bar.

They should do this more often.

Keiji grunts and snaps his neck away, too sensitive. But it’s only a moment before he’s wrapping a vengeful fist around Kei’s cock.

He groans, trying not to let it mess up his hard work—ha, hard, Tetsurō would love that joke. What was he thinking? God, Keiji looks so damn good in leather. He should buy a second spreader bar. Maybe a third? He’d love to pin all three of them down and edge them all until they’re crying messes. Collectively. Yum.

“Kei, don’t stop.”

“Shurry,” he slurs. “Uh, sorry.”

Keiji giggles, pressing his lips to his ear, and Kei focuses on his hand. Don’t get distracted. Getting distracted is for other people, not him. Distractions are for dinosaurs. How early does he need to get up tomorrow for his shift at the museum? Wasn’t his schedule changed? He kind of wants to fuck Kōtarō right now. He looks really, _really_ great bound and he doesn’t remember ever topping him like this. He should focus.

He can’t focus. Not with the way Keiji is fisting him.

“I’m going to come,” he says, flatly.

“I want to come, too!” Kōtarō shouts. Tetsurō’s laughing, he thinks.

Neither of them gets to come because Keiji and him both stop.

Kei exhales and grits his teeth before reaching over to start slowly pulling out the anal beads. Each pop makes Kōtarō buck, and each buck makes Tetsurō laugh some more. Both the moans and the laughter go straight to his cock. He loves them a lot.

“We love you too,” Keiji says beside him.

Did he say that out loud? Kei squints at him, unsure if he should even ask or if this is another case of Keiji’s majestic ability to read people he cares about. Where are his glasses? He wants to see Keiji’s gorgeous eyes. Wow, he’s drunk.

“I’m starting to think our Kei needs to be punished, too,” Tetsurō hums.

Kei’s gaze snaps to him, then back to Keiji when he says, “Agreed. He’s very distracted, not much use here.”

“Hey—”

“Get on the bed, Kei.”

He blushes _hard_ when Keiji uses that deliberate tone with him. Like he won’t take no for an answer, like he’s used to bossing him around like an extremely submissive virgin bottom. Uh, wow. Sometimes he’s a dom and sometimes he’s whatever the hell they want him to be. His throat goes dry.

“Next to Kōtarō. Hands and knees,” Keiji further demands. “Give your glove to Tetsurō.”

Kei grumbles but can’t bring himself to decline, climbing on the bed and already shivering with anticipation. He wanted to top Kōtarō, but this is… fine, too.

He hands Tetsurō the pink glove before he climbs off Kōtarō and takes up his former position. Keiji doesn’t stay, following Kei on the bed and caressing his ass.

“Let’s continue,” Tetsurō announces. Kōtarō moans again as Tetsurō grips the end of the anal beads and slips his fist around his base. He strokes him deliberately, watching Keiji work.

He can guess what he’s going to do and smiles when he’s right.

The first slap rings out loud and Kei gasps, arms not holding himself up, immediately collapsing face-down. Well, shit. Keiji is delicate after, caressing Kei’s ass before slapping the other cheek. He’s a fan of consistency, but from experience, Tetsurō knows that expectation doesn’t make it hurt any less. Keiji doesn’t let up the pace, smacking and smoothing over the spot, color quickly blooming on his two cheeks. Tetsurō can see Kei leaking from there and tugs away the information for later.

He swallows from the sexy sight of Keiji bending Kei over in that damn leather suit and then swallows again when Kōtarō tilts his head to make out with Kei at his side.

How did he get _so_ lucky?

Kōtarō’s cock gives its telltale signs and Tetsurō stops with a breathy exhale. He’s done well so far; it might be time to reward him. But…

No, not yet.

He grins to himself as he flicks his wrist on Kōtarō and picks up the pace of the anal beads. Not enough to hurt, but just enough _tooooo_ …

“Tetsurō!” he yells, the hint of a sob on his lips.

“Not yet,” he sings, eyes flicking between the cock before him and Keiji both slapping and stroking Kei. Both of them are messes. They should climax together for sure.

“Tell me when Kei is close, Keiji.”

“Okay. Approximately two more minutes.”

Tetsurō cackles at that. He doesn’t know how he manages to make math sexy. So, two more minutes for poor Kōtarō.

This time he doesn’t stop touching him even when’s close, opting for feather-light brushes and kisses to his shivering ankles.

“Please, please, _please, please_ ,” he begs, straining.

He likes him incoherent, although it’s worrying to imagine what would happen if Kōtarō snapped the headboard off. This is a rental, and he doesn’t know if he’d be able to explain to the condo landlord. At least the bar is metal.

Tetsurō sucks at his ankle next, still caressing the twitching, bulging length with fingertips. He switches to the other, nibbling at the sensitive skin, before kissing the balls of his feet.

“Wow,” Kei wheezes. “Kōtarō-kun?”

Keiji gives an interested hum. “Kōtarō’s really crying. Are you okay?”

Kōtarō moans loud, thrashing in another tantrum, headboard creaking. “No! No, let me _come_!”

“As soon as Kei does,” Tetsurō tuts. Kōtarō still has used no safe words, they really will have to reward him with more than an intense orgasm.

“Kei, please, please, come with me,” Kōtarō begs. “Please? _Please_?”

Kei whimpers. “I’m close.”

They’re back to making out, both chasing the same thing at the mercy of Tetsurō and Keiji.

“Come for me, Kei,” Keiji whispers, a low-volume demand.

He does. Kei chokes against Kōtarō’s mouth, body convulsing as Keiji’s hand practically forces the cum out of his cock. He even whimpers, but it’d be a mistake to mention it to their proud, pretty Kei.

Tetsurō, after a record-breaking (for Kōtarō) thirty minutes of edging, finally fists his red cock. Kōtarō cries out before the cum actually comes out, delayed when it finally allows itself to climax, hot cum dribbling over the clever glove that doesn’t stop jerking him off until the stream stops and Kōtarō’s swearing.

He lets go, grinning to himself and embarrassingly hard at Kōtarō who, in rare form, has absolutely nothing to say.

“Good boy, Kōtarō.”

The aftercare is intense, Kōtarō distantly thinks. He’s usually involved in it, full of energy no matter what and loving to spoil his boyfriends. He especially enjoys spooning them, tucking them in, doing everything in his power to make them feel like they’re relaxing on clouds. But today, it’s him and Kei huddled together in the overly enormous bathtub. But Kōtarō is still decently big on his own.

Sore and tired, he still manages to pull Kei between his legs, leaning his chin on his back and closing his eyes. Kei doesn’t resist, is more dead weight than anything, but he goes liquid in his arms. Warm water coats them, a thin layer of bubbles on the surface from the oils that smell of rose and lavender.

Keiji and Tetsurō are in the kitchen, preparing something that he can’t even remember. He doesn’t want to eat, not really, he wants to sleep here with Kei safe in his hold.

“Kei…”

“Mm?”

“How do you feel?”

His throat is raspy from use. That’s what he gets for begging for—probably—four hours straight. It’s how it felt, anyway. Kei groans and leans his head back into him. Kōtarō moves to let him and instead rests his head on the long, muscular neck of his exhausted boyfriend.

“Tired.”

“Haha… me, too.”

“You?”

“Good,” he admits. He’s tired, but very, very good. How he feels after a good workout. Maybe more full of love, though, than jogging for endless miles.

“I came three times.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah… I came once before Keiji sucked me off.”

“Wow,” Kōtarō mouths. “How’s your head? You drank a lot tonight, party boy!”

“Better. But bad. Not good.”

Still drunk. He holds him just a little tighter with the knowledge. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Kōtarō giggles to himself. No hesitation. Definitely drunk. He kisses sleepily at his neck and cheek, sighing happily into him.

The bathroom door opens to Tetsurō, a covered plate in hand.

“What’s that?”

His eyes crinkle as he lifts a corner of the napkin to show him. Cake! When’d they get cake?

“It’s strawberry,” he explains, sitting on the edge of the tub. “Made with real strawberry. I cut slices for both you and Kei, but he doesn’t look conscious.”

Kōtarō blinks and nuzzles his nose into him. Kei doesn’t stir.

“Sure is, huh.”

“Well, you can eat your slice if you want.”

Kōtarō shakes his head. “Nah, I wanna eat it with him. He loves strawberry.”

Tetsurō laughs at that and shrugs, standing up again. “That’s fine. I’ll take it back and hopefully Keiji’s done with the hangover smoothie.”

“Sounds good!”

Kōtarō’s asleep, too, by the time he returns.

With a sigh, Tetsurō ruffles his sweaty hair and stares affectionately at the two snoring men. They may look like and be professional volleyball players, but cuddling in a scented bath tub sure makes them look like nothing more than a couple of cute puppies. He kneels next to the tub and places down the smoothie on the tiles before folding his arms across the edge, watching them fondly.

“Is the smoothie oka—ah, asleep.”

Keiji’s voice lowers before he walks over, kneeling next to Tetsurō and propping his chin on the edge. He’s changed out of the leather outfit and thank goodness, because Tetsurō’s too tired to be horny right now. That outfit is _dangerous_.

“It’s kind of rare for these two to be the ones tired out first, huh?” he whispers.

Keiji nods in agreement, although he looks like he’ll fall asleep at any moment, too. “We should remove them before they prune.”

“I’ll give ’em about twenty more minutes. I’m just here to make sure they don’t slip in.”

“Alright.”

Keiji’s eyes close and Tetsurō reaches over to gently scratch at his scalp. “Come here, that can’t be comfortable for your back.”

He pats his lap and Keiji wordlessly crawls into it, head against his chest before he’s still. Tetsurō continues to comb through his hair, keeping an eye on the tub next to him.

What a night.

But he supposes love, and a whole lot of beer does that to people. He doesn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> ajodiasjdasoi I have no explanation for this one. It was a wild few nights and I've decided to finally just publish this do not perceive me.
> 
> Twitter post of this fic: [link](https://twitter.com/OfLittleGiants/status/1334192487473303552?s=20)


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